


tears, we cried a flood

by timeladyleo



Series: the knapp-shappey-shipwrights have a horrible christmas! [12]
Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:40:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28194111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timeladyleo/pseuds/timeladyleo
Summary: They both stood, numb in the corridor, listening as the car engine started. The headlights shone through the living room, casting shadows onto the wall, warped by the windows. And then she was gone.
Relationships: Arthur Shappey & Herc Shipwright, Carolyn Knapp-Shappey/Herc Shipwright
Series: the knapp-shappey-shipwrights have a horrible christmas! [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2039773
Kudos: 7





	tears, we cried a flood

**Author's Note:**

> this can stand alone, however it also operates as a part two to [_the storm is coming soon_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27957998) . as things so often do, that created a story in my head that got bigger and bigger, and it made me really sad to make herc into the bad guy, so now it's his turn to have some guilt. and maybe some forgiveness in a part three, coming soon. 
> 
> title is Coldplay's 'Christmas Lights'.

It would have been better if she’d slammed the door. If she’d yelled back, stormed out and slammed the door and let him go to grovel, later. 

They both stood, numb in the corridor, listening as the car engine started. The headlights shone through the living room, casting shadows onto the wall, warped by the windows. And then she was gone. 

When he finally remembered how to move, Herc turned around to look at Arthur, still frozen in the kitchen doorway. A ghost. Herc found he didn’t know what to say. The kitchen clock marked the passing seconds, its low ticks echoing through the hall. Echoing Herc’s racing heart. Why had he said any of that at all? What had they even been fighting about? 

She couldn’t really be gone. She’d be back at any second to call him a silly bastard, and he’d fall to his knees, more sorry than he had ever been in his life for shouting at her, for frightening them both because it hadn’t been important at all. Nothing was more important than her. She’d be back and she’d shout at him and he’d hang his head in shame because he deserved it, he had upset her and he deserved her wrath. 

She’d be back any second. The kitchen clock marked the seconds. 

The silence in the house was deafening. Even the dog was quiet – she’d run at the first raised voice. Arthur had frozen, a perfect shell of himself, eyes wide open as the scene unfolded before him, as Herc head himself saying it, _just fuck off, why don’t you?_

Would she ever believe him if he said he hadn’t meant it? Could she ever trust him again? 

“Arthur,” Herc said softly, his voice hoarse. “I’m sorry.”

As if being brought out of a trance, Arthur blinked at him, gasped, and darted away into the kitchen. 

He had been here before, too, he’d seen that look on his mother’s face before. Heard those words, heard worse words, remembered them buried beneath his skin. How impossible it ever was to make it better. He remembered what it was to be a ghost, to try and make himself as invisible and quiet as a well-behaved phantom. He knew which step was squeaky and how to hold his tongue. 

He’d never had to hide from Herc before. 

The air was thick as Herc tried to move through it, tried to get to the kitchen. Arthur was sat on the floor, the dog in his arms. He looked small. 

“Arthur,” he tried again, trying to smile, hands open by his sides, open in surrender. He took a seat at the table. “Are you okay?”

Arthur didn’t look at him, his hands trembling as he rubbed the dog’s head. Focused breathing. Calm breathing. Freaking out would just scare Herc more, and Carolyn leaving had scared him enough. Arthur smiled softly at the dog, listening to the road traffic, the tree in the yard. Focused on the things around him. The clock. Herc’s breath. 

He understood why Carolyn had run because he wanted to run too. 

Arthur looked up at Herc. It was dim in the kitchen, the lamp a weak light behind Herc making him into a silhouette, his shoulders sagged. No matter how much Arthur’s imagination wanted to run away, how much his nightmares wanted to turn Herc into the figure that haunted him, he knew that that figure would have been stood, fists clenched and eyebrows furrowed. Voice raised. 

But that figure still haunted him, fists clenched and words like knives, _fuck off, you’re so infuriating, you’re so stupid, stupid, stupid–_

“Did you mean it?”

Herc’s breath caught. Arthur looked so small, pressed up against the wall, eyes wide and watery. Trying to be strong. “Arthur, I–”

“Did you mean it?” Arthur heard his voice wobble, but he needed to know. He needed to know if he needed to go and find his mother and keep her safe. “Why did you say that to her? Please don’t lie to me.”

“No,” said Herc, deliberately, his chest squeezing as if it were about to implode. “I didn’t mean it. I shouldn’t have snapped at her. I never wanted to give you a reason not to trust me.”

“But you did,” Arthur said, so quietly that Herc barely heard him. If he said anything else, it got lost under the rush of blood between Herc’s ears. 

“I did.” The weight of it all was crushing. Arthur looked away, back at the dog, trying to hide his eyes. Herc wanted to reach out to him, to wrap his arms around him and promise it was going to be okay, that he was safe and loved, that he’d never hurt them.

 _But you did_. 

Arthur took a couple of shaky breaths and looked back up at Herc. If he were being a rational adult, then he could see that Herc was sorry. Herc looked like he was about to cry too, guilt manifesting in the worry lines on his forehead. If he were being rational, or even the Arthur he wanted to be, he’d forgive Herc there and then because Herc had done something that Gordon had never done: apologised, and meant it. 

But even so, the loudest voice in his head was the one paired with tiny, helpless hands watching as shouting turned to fists and glass and bruises. The one that was old enough now to stand up and say _enough. You will not hurt my mother._

“We have to make sure Mum’s okay,” he said, sniffing as subtly as he could, putting Snoop down gently on the floor and shuffling to the seat opposite Herc, where his phone sat. 

Herc nodded. He wanted to say something else, but everything running through his head sounded like chasing forgiveness. Arthur was right. All that mattered now was Carolyn. 

They watched as Arthur’s phone rang and rang, centre of the table. Snoop snaked between their legs, her tail hitting against them, arrhythmic against the ringtone. Carolyn didn’t pick up. Arthur texted her a few times, in case she was avoiding Herc on purpose. The thought made him feel sick, but he understood. It hurt because he wanted nothing more than to hear her voice, but if all she wanted to do was text Arthur, then at least they’d know. 

It was the not knowing that was making the world feel like it was falling in. Carolyn didn’t pick up. 

Arthur looked at Herc with his biggest worried eyes. No matter how bitter she was, she wouldn’t make them worry on purpose like this. Would she? Herc couldn’t make himself smile. “I’m sure she’s on her way home. She’ll be fine.” Herc said it more to make himself believe it. 

They both jumped as Herc’s phone rang, hearts leaping as they scrambled to see. “Unknown number,” Herc said as he picked up. “Carolyn?”

And Arthur watched as his face fell further, as he put the phone down and said, quietly. “That was the hospital.”

**Author's Note:**

> this is followed by the next one along, [_joy that i'm home_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28287618)
> 
> I'm on tumblr, [sircarolyn](http://sircarolyn.tumblr.com/).


End file.
